


Unfinished Business

by do_city



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Alex is a good bro, Amos Needs a Hug, Character Study, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn with Feelings, The Churn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-31 20:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15127628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/do_city/pseuds/do_city
Summary: There was a voice then, two voices. A hand on his arm. He needed a fight, a drink. Something to drown out the buzzing in his head.





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a long time lurker that needed more Expanse and Amos in my life. 
> 
> Ambiguously set after Season 3 with reference to Amos' backstory from The Churn. Shout out to bog_witch's Take Offs And Landings which had me falling in love with Alex/Amos. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Amos liked mornings best on the _Roci_. Days like this, where he came off a quiet early watch shift, the rest of the ship waking up slow. No one getting shot at. No monsters in the hold. He turned the corner into the galley, Holden acknowledging him from the table with a nod. His favorite part was that Holden wouldn’t start a conversation before at least two cups of coffee. Also, coffee. Second favorite part.

The list of repairs after Titan were straightforward enough and they had a full month to work as they made their way to Ceres at a quarter g burn. The _Roci_ didn’t have any holes in her this time and Amos was looking forward to giving her some unhurried attention. Maybe he’d even get enough done to mess with the engine add-ons Naomi picked up. After the air filter wiring on the med-deck. And the hatch seal in the cargo bay. He turned his mug slowly in his hands, warming up his mind.

“Cowpokes, I got our daily mystery all queued up. Grab your hats and hold onto your junk.”

Alex sauntered into the galley with that know-it-all grin on his face, gesturing from his handheld to throw up the screen for the team. Holden squinted, leaning on his elbows at the galley table. Naomi - sharp and probably already halfway through her to-do list for the day - came in behind Alex.

“Alex already walked me through this,” she said, zooming in on the screen with both hands. She wore her all-business face. “Late last night we received 5,000 credits and this message from Earth via Tycho. It was sent general care of the _Roci_ crew and includes an encrypted datapack with some rather damaging information on some rather important people that we-“ she raised an eyebrow at Holden “-would rather not piss off at the moment.”

Holden shrugged, presumably his pre-coffee version of _who, me?_ Amos leaned forward from the back of the galley, trying to decipher the blurred image of an older woman’s face.

“It’s addressed to Timmy,” Naomi continued. Amos blinked. Timmy.

 _If you’re seeing this, I’m already dead._ The woman’s face was stiff with make-up, the handheld she recorded from slightly too close to her face and lending a sibilant hiss to her words.

Amos tried to follow but the rest of the message passed in a blur, barely decipherable beneath the rush of blood in his ears. Something about a high-end UN diplomat, a dead body, a prostitute or two in the right place at the right time, _I had no one else to turn to_. 5,000 credits, enough to get them to Charon and back with fuel pellets to spare. _This is everything I had._

She kept going. _I’m sorry you had to grow up the way you did._

She was looking straight at him, despair lining her face so deep he realized it had always been there. When was the last time he had seen her? _I was never strong enough to protect you_. _Getting you off this rock was the only worthwhile thing I’ve ever done._

_But maybe this could be one more._

There was a voice then, two voices. A hand on his arm. He needed a fight, a drink. Something to drown out the buzzing in his head.

“Amos.” It was Alex. Naomi and Holden looking at him with concern. He brushed past them and left the galley, a decades-older version of a woman he had known frozen on the screen. Lydia. _Lydia_.   

 

 

Alex and Amos never fit together the way Naomi and Holden did, soft and hard edges matching like those old Earther romances Holden thought no one saw him watching. They made sense in a practical way. Two men in a tin can for months at a time, looking for something quick and easy to take the edge off. Amos knew people found his body attractive and didn’t mind putting it to uses other than getting shot at, or repairing a hull breach. Plus Alex was mellower and flew the _Roci_ smoother when he was getting some on the regular. Seemed like something else Amos could fix.

After The Message, as Amos had taken to calling it in his head, Alex didn’t come by the machine shop for his usual one-sided conversation that more often than not ended decidedly less conversational. Instead, he stomped around the flight deck, muttering under his breath and arguing with Holden. After Alex burnt the crew’s fifth cup of coffee, Amos decided to take matters into his own hands. He was itching for a problem he could fight, fuck or weld back into shape.

He cleaned up after the machine shop and made his way to command, pulling himself up the ladder to the flight deck.

“Hey. Alex.”

The man jumped, turning in his pilot’s seat with surprise. The reroute to deliver the data packet was easiest if they took it now, on their way to Ceres, and Alex was still calculating the final adjusted flight path and necessary burn rates.

“Let's fuck,” Amos said.

“What?”

“I said-”

“I heard what you said.” Alex was frowning, his fingers twitching over the controls against the backdrop of the nav screen. He looked at Amos like he hadn’t seen him in weeks, like there was something new and unfamiliar he was trying to untangle. The pause lengthened. This wasn’t how Amos wanted things to go.

Alex sighed, running his hands through his hair. He got up from the chair and gave Amos a indecipherable half smile.

“I like you, you asshole,” Alex said, leaning over and poking Amos in the chest. “And it gets me all sorts of way when you do that... disappearing thing. With your face.”   

Alex paused, watching him. His stare made Amos itch.

“Jesus, Amos. Yes, like that,” he said.

And then he grabbed the front of Amos’ t-shirt and pulled him in for a sloppy, urgent kiss. Slid his hands across Amos’ broad shoulders and down to where his coveralls rested low around his hips. Under his shirt and up his sides. Fingers slotting warm against Amos’ ribs.

Amos tucked away the other pieces he didn’t quite know what to do with, those bits that twisted that thing behind his sternum. This was definitely more up Amos’ alley. He mouthed Alex’s neck, moving along the curve of his chin, hand coming up to tug on Alex’s hair and pull him closer.

“Maybe the _Roci_ wants to watch while I suck your dick,” he whispered into Alex’s ear.

Alex flushed a shade darker. Amos grinned into Alex’s stubble, grinding against the growing hard-on at his hip. Alex would never admit it but he was definitely all sorts of way about this ship. With a step Amos crowded Alex against the controls, shoving him back into the pilot’s chair. He sank down to his knees in front of the chair, arms on either side of the Martian, unzipping Alex’s coveralls and palming his cock through his briefs. He looked up at Alex and smirked before pulling Alex’s growing erection free and swallowing in one smooth motion.

“Fu-uck.” Alex threw his head back with a groan. “Amos-”

Naomi and Holden pointedly avoided the command deck for the rest of the day.

 

 

"Martian's finest chili, at your service. Best in the Solar System." Alex set the bowls down on the table with a flourish, a dish towel draped over his wrist and - where did he possibly find that? - a kiss the cook apron wrapped across his middle. Amos watched from the end of the table, already hunched over his own bowl.  
  
Holden's eyes were shining. "We’ll see about that. My dads used to make a mean pot."  
  
"Boy, you grew up in the northern territories,” Alex sputtered in affront. “Ain't no chili that can compete with the Martian's unless you're a tenth generation Texan."  
  
Holden raised an eyebrow. "And you're saying this spacer version with vat-grown protein and synthetic beans is going to cut it? I grew up with actually animals, you know, which is where meat is supposed to come from.”

"Hey! This here is real cheese. From a real- fuck it, I don’t know where cheese comes from. Just appreciate it, brother. And get off your fancy-ass show pony already and enjoy some common folk food."  
  
Naomi laughed as she dug in.

"Amos, looks like you're enjoying the Martian version just fine," Alex said, with an _I told you so_ look to Holden.  
  
"Never had chili before," Amos said between bites. "Seems good."  
  
"Never had chili!" Alex threw up his hands. "Partner, I have a long list of meals to cook for y’all uncultured heathens. Why just the other day-"  
  
Once Alex got started on food, there wasn’t much could be done to stop him. He spent most of the dinner waving his hands over the galley table, actual food left untouched. The mood was light and infectious and Amos felt something in him finally relax. They finished the meal and moved on to bulbs of beer, passing around stories - most entirely untrue - about their escapades before they crewed the _Roci_. This was... nice. No impending threat, no hard burn, no emergency repairs. It was a rare month for the crew and they were going to cut it short for him. To deliver a message at the request of a dead stranger from his past. The fact that Amos knew Holden was crazy enough to do this for anyone didn't change the painful knowledge that they were doing it for him.  
  
There was a lull in the storytelling. Amos downed the rest of his drink and cleared his throat. The rest of the crew turned their attention to him. Maybe they had been waiting the whole meal for this.

“I’m not gonna tell you about that message,” Amos said. “Figure it’s none of your business.”

“Amos-” Holden, of course. Amos held up a hand to interrupt him. He was only going to do this once.

“But you’re helping me out. So I’m just gonna say, I owe her. Y’all don’t. So, thanks.”  
  
"Anytime." Naomi said, serious. Alex nodded in agreement, his gaze soft, and finally it was all too much. Amos pushed up from the table and walked out of the galley, feeling their stares. The hairs on the back of his neck itched. The chili soured in his stomach.  
  
Lydia had addressed the message to Timmy. Timmy, the version of himself he had killed in order to make it out of Baltimore alive. As a young man he had no interest in the stars. Just an animal's interest in survival and an animal's ability to adapt.  
  
Even if the others hadn't figured it out yet, he knew nothing had changed.

 

 

“Amos.” The hatch slid open. It was Alex, his voice loose and liquid, light spilling into the quarters from the hallway. “You awake?”

Amos rolled over and sat up, the blankets pooling at his waist. Alex’s silhouette raised a half empty bottle of whiskey with an shrug.

“Turns out Naomi restocked the liquor at our last stop,” Alex said, apologetic. “Figured I’d better share.”

Amos grunted and gestured toward the bottle. Took a slug after Alex passed it over, Alex taking seat next to him on the cot. Took another long slug. Wiped at his mouth with the back of his wrist and then, fuck it, took one more.

“Was waiting for you,” Amos said, passing the bottle back to Alex.

“Oh, were you?” Alex laughed, warm and friendly, taking another pull of the whiskey before setting the bottle down with an appreciative sigh. Amos was in his briefs, chest bare.

“Well, wouldn’t want to keep a brother waiting,” Alex smirked, pulling off his t-shirt in one smooth motion, sliding his coveralls down over his hips in the next. Tossing it all on the ground behind him. Alex had an ease with sex that Amos envied. Something loose and practical and joyful that Amos never imagined could be part of something like this, with him. Alex turned to Amos and cupped his face in his hands, pulling him in for a rough kiss before breaking it off and pushing him back against the bed with both hands.

Amos let him lead, he needed this.

“I already prepped,” he said.

Alex looked at him sharply then, his eyes dark. Roamed his hands appreciatively across Amos’ chest and shoulders before tugging Amos’ briefs down, eyeing the growing erection that sprung free to rest against Amos’ stomach.

The bunk was an awkward fit for two grown men but Alex sank with some semblance of grace between Amos’ knees and mouthed at Amos’ penis, one hand squeezing Amos’ ass and the other testing his hole with a finger.

“Guess you did, partner.” His voice was husky.

Alex lubed his hand before sliding two fingers into Amos’ ass. Curled his fingers in the place he knew Amos liked. Yes. Amos lifted his hips and let his knees fall to the side, groaning somewhere deep in his chest. Three fingers.

A moment passed and then Alex’s fingers were gone, then the pornographic sound of lube, the head of Alex’s dick pressing against his hole. And then the wave of pain-pleasure as in one slow motion Alex bottomed out. He pressed against Amos, frozen in position as he breathed harshly through the stretch. Amos felt Alex’s fingers dig into his hips deep enough to bruise.

“Move,” Amos said.

Alex laughed and grinned then shoved Amos’ knees against his chest and set a brutal rhythm that had Amos bracing himself against the back of the bunk. Finally. Nothing gentle about it.

This was what Amos wanted. Something ruthless. His thoughts gone. Just the sound of flesh against flesh, Alex’s hands on his throbbing dick. But there was something else. Something different Alex was trying to tell him this time. Something in the rough tug of his hair, or Alex’s hands, everywhere, or the way Alex whispered incoherent as he stroked Amos to orgasm, eyes wide as he followed not long after. As both lay there trying to catch their breath, sweat drying against their skin, the thick smell of sex in the room, the hum of the air recyclers and the deep vibration of the _Roci_ engine below.

As the universe slowed back down Alex rolled off his chest. Swung his legs over edge of the bed, smoothed out his hair with his fingers.

“You can stay,” Amos said, surprising himself.

Alex gave him a quick glance, something in his gaze. They didn’t do this. “Alright,” he said.

With the same efficient movement that piloted the _Roci_ , Alex grabbed a shirt from the ground and wiped himself clean, handing it to Amos to do the same. He padded naked to the bathroom with the slow bouncing steps of low gravity. Amos was drifting off by the time Alex crawled back into bed.

“Scoot over, partner.”

Amos shifted to accommodate as Alex fussed with the thin blanket before throwing the covers over them both. Alex threw an arm over his stomach to pull him close against his chest. Like he’d done this a thousand times - and maybe he had. Then he settled in close enough that Amos could feel each exhale against his neck, the scruff of Alex’s beard against his shoulder. The casual intimacy of it made Amos shiver.

“Night,” Alex mumbled, already sinking into sleep.

Amos lay there with his eyes open for a long time.

 

 

In the end, the delivery was simple.

What Amos couldn’t shake was the convergence of a past he thought long dead - a person he thought long dead - with the life he was living now.  A real life with his own bed, regular meals, something to fix. A fast ship and a crew that wouldn’t leave him behind. Even doing good sometimes. Finding Mei. Helping Prax. Now that was something to pull out and re-examine whenever he was feeling particularly nasty. He didn’t think much of redemption but when he woke up slow in the morning, feeling the _Roci_ purr beneath him, knowing that he had a hand in keeping her running smooth, he could imagine-

And then something out of his past would grab him or that blinding rage would sweep through him and he was reminded of what he really was. Of the empty, monstrous potential inside him. Lydia’s face and ripping that guy’s ear off and punching that man over and over and over. He’d gotten into fights since then. Killed people cleanly and without feeling. This was something else. Her hand on his chest. _You know there’s no one inside there._  

But when he woke up next to Alex for the third time that week, Amos realized that something might be different.

He rolled onto his side and rested his head against his arm. He liked watching Alex sleep and, like now, as he slowly woke up. He was a messy sleeper, a line of drool dried against his cheek, hair pressed into a wild comb, mouth wide. Alex opened one eye, saw Amos looking at him and groaned.

“Too early,” Alex mumbled. He tried to pull Amos’ pillow over his head and roll back over. Amos grabbed his shoulder.

“Alex,” he said. His tone was serious enough that Alex turned, even in the throes of his morning stupor. He took a look at Amos’ face and propped himself up, wiping the sleep from his eyes and running his hands across his face.

“We gettin’ shot at or something?” He gave Amos a suspicious look. “How long you been awake, anyway?”

“I want to tell you about that message.”

Alex sat up. “Amos, I get it, you don’t have to-”

“Been thinking about telling you. Like, maybe you should know.” Amos frowned. He had been lying awake while Alex snored softly beside him, running this through his head, and now he couldn’t quite remember what seemed so important. He decided to plunge forward anyway.

“Lydia, she took care of me when I was young,” he said. “I was unregistered, right? So no basic or nothing. Had to make scrip some other ways.” He lay on his back, looking up at the underside of the bunk while he spoke. "She was a whore so made sense for me to whore too, when I was too little for anything else.”

“I didn’t have any mind to leave Baltimore. Didn’t have much mind for anything at all. Just do the job that’s in front of you.” Amos took a breath, paused, remembering the blood-soaked night that preceded his escape from Earth. The memory was blurry, shadows lit only by fire. “A lot of death that didn't mean much to anyone got me out of that city.”

He looked at Alex, finally. “When you die, you leave unfinished business. That’s what dying is. And I never thought-” He paused, searching for the right words, struggling to lift this thing off of himself. “Never thought I’d get to finish some of that business.”

Alex reached out and pulled Amos to his chest.

 

 

_Fin_


End file.
